


Blood in the water

by hongse



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, BASICALLY EVERYTHING IS IMPLIED OR DUBIOUS BECAUSE THERE'S A DAMN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Reference Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild spanking kink, Miya is bad at dealing with stuff but I trust Reki with my life, Miya needs a (thousand) hug(s), Miya's POV, Past Abuse, Soft Reki, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongse/pseuds/hongse
Summary: Miya likes to break things – and people – to feel better. The problem is, Reki looks like someone who wouldn’t mind breaking for Miya’s sake.
Relationships: Chinen Miya/Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa & Kyan Reki, implied Adam/Langa (one-sided), implied future Reki/Langa, past Miya/Adam
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Blood in the water

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fandom ♥ I opened Word to write some brief, one-sided smut, I ended up with an episode of Law and Order, and a very depressing one. **I found it really difficult to tag, please let me know if you feel like I've left out some warnings!**
> 
> For context, I love every single character in this anime. Reki is probably my fave, Miya is very close though. BUT WHEN ANGST IS NEEDED, I SHALL PROVIDE. 
> 
> (On a side note, ‘every single character’ includes Adam. Please do not take his role in this fic as an encouragemnt to do any character bashing/shaming people’s ships. All ships are valid and all shippers in this fandom are now my children ♥ mömther loves you very much ♥ I mistreat all characters, sometimes they have to take turns u.u) 
> 
> I was already writing this, but then I had some meaningful conversation with my Emotional Support Kitten (who also proofread this whole thing out of love and assured me we're still friends lol) , so there’s definitely a couple of plot points inspired by our ramblings. 
> 
> Quote from _Cool girl_ by dodie (I swear sometimes her music is what gets me through the day) and I had quite a hard time picking one song for Miya lol Title from _Legally Blonde: The Musical_.

**Blood in the water**

**_How much of a tongue can I bite until we notice blood?_ **

**Spit to the left, carry on, just smile and say you're good**

**God, I swore I wouldn't play the age-old game**

**I'll be different  
I'll be quiet**

**I'll be easy-  
(I'll be quiet again)**

Miya has a faint memory of _before_ , when he was a child and the only things that mattered in his world were his parents, playtime and candies. It must have been a long time ago, and brief, too. He had woken up one day, still feeling like a child in his bones, but with something else, a curse, that had been corrupting his life ever since: they had called it ‘talent’.

Having a ‘talent’ was bad enough, it made people want to grab him and push him and put him on planes to go places he didnt’t know the name of. Miya used to fantasise about meeting a boy who looked just like him, trading places with him and running away. No one would have noticed, because nobody cared about _Miya_ , only abut Japan’s youngest promise.

He was the stupid one for being caught off-guard: the best of us are bound to be alone, that’s a truth universally acknowledged. There’s simply too much work involved. Even his parents can barely keep up with it and caring about Miya should be their job’s description.

He was sad, at first. He missed his friends, he missed skating without a purpose, being silly, pulling crazy stunts for the sake of it. He used to be the one who could make everyone else laugh, because Miya was – and is – hardly scared of anything in this world: if somebody had to jump off a cliff to see how high it was, that’d be him. No matter how many bruises he ended up with, his friends would cheer him up and pick him up from the ground, eyes glimmering with admiration and a big goofy smile that matched Miya’s.

Perhaps he still misses _that_ one thing, and the bruises, too. He never cared too much for the pain; he wonders if, somehow, he already knew there are worse bruises and much more painful things out there.

( _maybe he misses being the one to jump,_

_instead of getting pushed;_

_maybe he misses owning his wounds,_

_instead of being owned_ )

Adam was the only one who understood everything about him, without Miya having to explain. He knew about loneliness and the burden of talent.

The first time he came to see Miya skating, Japan’s most gifted child was having a hell of a bad day. He’d been falling over the same trick and his instructor’s words of encouragement were giving him a headache. Adam wasn’t there to cheer or to offer him some empty words of comfort. He’d stared at Miya’s feet on the board for what felt like a lifetime, until three words came out of his mounth: _move it forward_.

And just like that – with a single technical observation – Miya was flying again. From up above, he could see all his failures and his pain for what they really were: small and insignificant, but most importantly, _far far away_. He ought to stay on top, to keep flying, so that pain will never reach him.

It was pretty lonely, still.

 _He_ was pretty lonely, except for Adam.

Adam liked so much about Miya – everything, in fact – even qualities Miya didn’t know he possesed or things he never noticed himself doing. Adam found his pout endearing, his bratty attitude a funny challenge, and his loneliness an excuse to make the first move in their friendship.

Miya thrived in the company of adults, especially of someone who would treat him like a person, the way Adam always had. The young skater didn’t expect to be his equal, that would have been unreasonable – and that was exactly the concept most adults in his life failed to understand. For them, it was either baby talk or agreeing on everything he said, depending on the situation. But Miya did want guidance from more experienced skaters or to see his parents voicing their concerns regarding the next contract. He wanted someone to sit down and talk him through things, to listen to his questions and find solutions together

Miya has wanted an ‘Adam’ is whole, brief life so bad that, when he did stumble upon one, it felt like the gates of Heaven had suddenly been opened for him and him only. Miya had learned more about skating from their first exchange than in the last year of training.

( _the luckiest of them all,_

_so young and yet already worthy_

_of skating board to board with a living legend,_

_so young and and yet already-_ )

Miya had not been raised to be ungrateful and so, he just smiled and said ‘thank you, Adam’.

( _every_

_single_

_time_ )

* * *

That _Snow_ is a first in a very long time. Miya wants to beat him, of course, or perhaps Miya _has to_ beat him. Winning is what he does, it has been for a very long time; what he _wants_ , well, that’s an entirely different matter.

He could say he wants to watch Langa. He wants him to thrive and get good, _really good_ , to lose himself in the thrill of the competition and fade away, like Miya did. He wants to wake up one day knowing there is someone else who feels at least as lonely as he does.

( _someone else waking up next to Adam_ , _no, alone, Adam always wakes up so early_ ,

 _and if Miya is not there, someone has to be there, right?_ )

But he’d be a liar to deny that seeing Langa does bother him, almost as much as it excites him. It could be that he looks so calm and collected ( _give it time, he’ll break, too_ ) or that he had never seen the community so taken by a newbie in a long time; could be that Adam’s obsession for this guy is bordering the epic, even for the man’s standards. Miya has never seen him like that.

( _and he thought he’d seen it all_ )

Thus, Miya observes.

Scared of Langa, scared _for_ Langa - because hey, he’s not a monster, okay ? – and scared of himself as he thinks of the boy challenging Adam. He lies in bed, picturing the race, trying to predict what kind of crazy snowboard shit Langa would pull this time. What if he won?

( _what if he fell or get hurt or worse, what if-_ )

Miya is the best liar he knows, though.

He doesn’t tear his eyes off of Langa for days, like a kitten practicing hunting before the real deal. He sniffs for blood, for weak spots, for hidden strengths. He pours all of his focus into this one task, years of strict training and an almost military regime coming in handy. Still, he fails. Because every time Langa succeeds, every time he falls, every time he laughs, _fuck, every time he stands up to Adam, too_ is hardly about anyone else but Reki.

And Miya is so not going to deal with Reki.

Reki, who’s so bright and lively and apparently fueled by an infinite supply of affection. It must be, because he’s affectionate to Miya, too, he clearly has some to spare.

( _“hard to love”, that’s what Miya is, not his words,_

 _but he’s made them his nonetheless_ )

Their eyes meet, sometimes, when they’re both looking at Langa. And Miya’s stomach twists into a ball of vague discomfort he can’t quite put his fingers on; he files it away as anger, but that’s too easy and feelings are never just one thing or another.

« God, he’s practically perfect _._ » Miya spits out, one day he can’t bite his tongue in time.

He gets a loud sigh in lieu of a reply, and he turns to find Reki’s eyes completely lost in the sight, drinking the other boy in. He looks so soft and quiet that Miya needs a moment or two to read his expression – still, he’s baffled.

Reki’s is so childlike. Even his most private longing stare, when there’s not chance of Langa catching him, barely differs from the way Miya looks at kittens. It’s hard to believe this boy is older than Miya and that he’s in love.

( _and Miya knows what he feels like to be looked at_

_by someone who loves you,_

_you get goosebumps on the back of your neck, even in the dark,_

_you feel like a prize or a prey-)_

_Reki is such a softie_. 

That’s when it clicks, in Miya’s head: _if you can’t have it, break it_.

Basic cat rule.

Reki’s face is suddenly serious as he murmurs his reply, _“too perfect, sometimes”_ and _oh_ , the sweet sound of self-doubt. He can smell it, like a shark smells blood: Reki thinks he’s not worthy of Langa – _of anyone decent, if Miya gets lucky, for a change._

And Miya really should say it, he should stop and grab Reki’s shoulders, shake him as hard as he can and _tell him_ : that of all the people Miya has met in his life, nobody has ever shown half of his glow, or a grain of his kindness. That he’s a fucking ray of sunshine in human form. That Langa obviously, _obviously_ feels the same.

He doesn’t, though.

He cocks his head to the side and gives Reki a little grin, the mean one, all sharp teeth and malice, although Miya’s teeth are not _that_ sharp, not yet. _“Right”_ , he says. _“You have a point”_ , then shrugs. When Reki looks sad, Miya feels happy. Or so he thinks. Or he just doesn’t really remember what feeling happy means and he just knows he is not the most miserable person on sight right now.

( _“Why are you sad, kitten?”_

_“I’m not. I’m okay.”_

_“Just okay?”_

_“No. I’m happy.”_

_“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”_ )

* * *

After that, they hang out more.

Reki invites him over, even when Langa is not there and there are no skateboards involved, and makes him do silly things like playing video-games he obviously sucks at – _what’s the point if he knows Miya will win?_ \- or watching movies with lots of explosions and fast cars. Miya’s reticence has turned into such a poorly performed act, as impatient as he is to spend time with Reki, that he genuinely cannot believe the older teen is buying it. Then again, it’s Reki. He probably wouldn’t understand Miya’s schemes even if somebody drew them on paper and handed them over to him.

As clueless as he might be, Reki does get on his nerves, sometimes. He has this annoying habit of treating him like he’s Miya’s big brother of something. The softness is endearing, every now and then, but Miya is not made of glass and Reki’s protective instinct quickly becomes suffocating. It’s all about the little things. When they are about to cross the street, for example, and Reki’s hand instinctively reaches for Miya’s shoulder, brushing it gently as if to make sure he won’t jump in the middle of the street. After practicing a trick, too, when Miya’s just landed and his big cat jumper is a bit of a mess, Reki would come up to him and adjust the hood or smoothen a sleeve in-between compliments. The first time he’d touch Miya like that, the boy was startled; and he had waited, like the patient cat he was, waited and studied the older teen, ready for a sign.

_(a not-so-casual casual brush on his cheek_

_grazing just above his neckline;_

_a hug that would break just that one second too late;_

_a feeling, really, it’s not rocket science)_

Reki’s blinding smile is all he gets for his trouble – or in spite of his troubles, he’d say.

Even now, sitting elbow to elbow on Reki’s bed, kicking his butt at yet another videogame, Miya is taken aback by the amount of _nothing_ Reki emanates – no bitterness, no jealousy, not evene a hint of disappointment, like a black hole of kindness. It occurs to him that perhaps Reki does see him as a younger brother and has relegated him to the same category his sisters belonged to. The thought makes Miya _furious_ , because he is nothing like other kids his age - and because _kids his age are nothing like him_ , should never be like him, they have done nothing to deserve such a terrifying comparison - and only Reki can be so dumb to think otherwise.

Unless, of course, Reki is the smartest of them all, the only one who see Miya for what he is and is not scared to treat him kindly. Miya could, hypothetically, tolerate his stupidity, but he won’t deal with his compassion.

Struck by a fit of anger, Miya throws his joypad on the floor – aiming at the carpet, fine, but still a pretty childish move. Reki squeaks in surprise and, to Miya’s absolute delight, he looks like he has no idea what just happened.

« What was that?! »

« It’s boring. You _suck_. » Miya crosses his arms and pouts « I don’t want to play anymore. »

« And you couldn’t just _say_ that because...? » Reki sighs, picking up the joypad from the floor and turning the playstation off « Jeez, you’re such a brat. »

« I guess I might have used an older sibling telling me off. Too late for that. »

« Never too late to learn some manners. » Reki mumbles, shaking his head.

Miya waits until Reki is sitting next to him again, before baring his teeth and attacking.

« Well. » he makes a point of staring at the other boy while titling his head to the side in the cutest way possible « The position is open, if you want to apply. »

Confusion flashes through Reki’s eyes and Miya could swear his own pride is _roaring_ , right now. Because what follows is not open for debate or interpretation: Miya climbs on Reki’s lap and drapes both arms around his neck, their nose tips almost touching.

Miya knows how to take control, he knows his power; it worked with Adam, too, why shouldn’t it work with Reki? He could render the man speechless with a simple look and the kick of adrenaline Miya got from it was unparalleled. Better than skating, sometimes, because it was entirely his – no one to claim the seat next to him in the spotlight or cash in the sponsor’s cheque ‘to save up for his future’. That wasn’t something Miya had to – _could?_ – share with anyone.

( _some days, he would pick certain clothes,_

_a little too short and a little too tight,_

_and just marvel at Adam’s reaction;_

_it didn’t matter who bought the clothes_

_or who was the first to suggest Miya would look so pretty in them_ )

« You’re a menace. »

Miya blinks.

Reki is quick at lifting the smaller boy up and twisting him in his arms, until Miya’s back is pressed against his chest. And then _he fucking tickles him._

Miya screams at the top of his lungs, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but Reki shows no mercy. He is laughing, now, and the sound reverberates in Miya’s chest and gets lost in his own laughter.

« Seriously, _what’s wrong with you_. »

There’s no bite in Reki’s words. There’s not even a question mark, to be honest, and yet, Miya knows the answer to that. Something heavy and painful and _wrong_ stirs in the pit of his stomach, until Miya can’t tell where the tears are coming from anymore. Whatever it is, it’s excruciating, and Miya’s body collapses, as if it has been crushed..

« Miya? Are you, uhm, okay...? »

Miya is basically lying on Reki’s lap at this point, not the most dignified position but at least one that allows him to hide is pained expression. He sniffles a bit, then, slowly, he nods.

« You really are a little brat. » Reki rolls his eyes and playfully smacks Miya on his back, although his hand ends up way too close to the boy’s ass for Miya’s taste.

And that’s when Miya _whines_.

The other boy either doesn’t want to acknowledge the reaction or genuinely misses what sounds obvious to Miya’s ears, because he acts as if that was a sound of pain.

« Sorry, did I hit a skate bruise or something? »

He rubs his palm on the same spot, gently and soothing, and Miya can’t do much but _fucking whining_ again. Reki stops immediately but says nothing, so Miya has to turn his head a little to try and read his expression. If there’s anything to be read at all – Reki’s face is blank, perhaps with a hint of fear, hard to notice unless you were an expert.

« Mh mh » Miya shake his head « You’re right. I’ve been a brat. Maybe you should punish me. »

Reki catches his breath and, as their eyes finally meet, Miya can tell the way Reki looks at him is just something else. Reki is staring down at the smaller boy as if he had never seen him before; and he probably hasn’t, since what he has been seeing until know is a scared little boy who needs care and affection.

( _unless **this** isn’t Miya either, _

_unless Miya is never himself,_

_can never be himself_

_couldn’t be himself again until Reki found him-_ )

When the older teen doesn’t react to that, Miya sneaks a hand between their bodies and presses his palm against Reki’s crotch.

« M-Miya! _Stop that_. » Reki almost hisses.

His big brother instinct kicks in and he gives Miya another light smack, this time fully on his ass. It’s barely a pat, but Miya makes a scene, letting out a series of increasingly obscene moans. It’s so obvious he’s playing it up he almost feels a little bit embarrassed of himself. He doesn’t have time to, though: with an impressive display of mental strength, Reki manages to grab Miya from his waist and pull him up, forcing him to sit on his lap again, but keeping a strong hold on Miya’s arms, so to avoid any more unexpected attacks.

« What was that? » he barks, his face only inches from Miya’s.

« S-sorry. » Miya sniffles.

He’s almost surprised when he finds his eyes already wet; actually, now that he’s paying attention, he realises his cheeks are wet, too. _How strange_. Not that playing the cuteness card with tears on top wasn’t the plan anyway, still, he doesn’t remember deciding to start crying. _Good for him,_ he guesses.

Predictably, Reki’s face immediately softens at that sight of Miya shaking and sobbing in his arms. His grip quickly turns into an embrace, and he holds Miya against his chest, easing each sob by massaging the boy’s back, while Miya hides his face in the crook of his neck. His arms are shortly back encircling Reki’s shoulders. He nuzzles the older’s boy neck a few times, meeting no resistance, then he starts peppering his neck and jawline with tiny shy kisses.

 _So reckless_ , he finds himself thinking.

( _never offer your neck to the enemy,_

_that’s where to bite to draw blood_

_that’s how you get killed_ )

There’s a moment when Reki’s body stiffens, but then again, he is probably happy to trade whatever has been going on before for a little smooch.

« So, uhm, this is what you were after? Cuddles? » Reki tentatively asks.

When Miya tilts his head back so they are face to face, Reki’s thumb come up to the smaller’s boy lips, stroking them gently.

 _Cuddles_.

Miya hesitates.

He wants to play with Reki, that’s what he wants. And he wants Reki to play _with_ _him_ , because Reki is handsome and soft and warm, but Miya can’t _have-have_ him, not on any normal Thursday and most definitely not with Langa around; so, he wants Reki to think he’s some little lost boy in need of rescuing, someone Reki should care about and hold and fuck, until Miya gets bored.

( _until Langa will come around,_

_eventually, to claim Reki back,_

_because Langa is strong and gorgeous,_

_and Adam-_

_Adam-_ )

« Yes. _Cuddles_. » he decides.

Then, he’s kissing Reki. Miya shoves his tongue in his mouth, merciless, but Reki is a quick study and soon they’re both panting.

« That’s some aggressive cuddling, man. » Reki teases, still a bit flushed.

Miya sticks his tongue out, and Reki chuckles, ruffling his hair affectionately. _Miya wants to bite those fingers off_. He pushes back his own thirst for blood and makes sure Reki can’t say anything else for a while.

* * *

It isn’t until the rematch that Miya has a chance to twist the knife a little bit more - when Langa challenges Adam back and, somehow, ends up surving the race once again.

Some people are ridiculously blessed.

Reki is stoic the whole time, and in the aftermath, too, when they walk Langa home and have a final checkup of his limbs – all attached, against all the odds. It doesn’t take a detective to notice Reki’s pained expression, so Miya sneaks his hand into the boy’s slightly larger one, ever so casually, not because he cares or anything, but because there is a good chance Reki will remember where he could find some comfort.

If that ends up making Reki feel better, it’s an accidental bonus Miya won’t dwell on.

Miya has purpusefully lost count of the times Reki and him (sometimes with Langa, sometimes without) have sneaked back into his house, and Miya has fallen asleep in Reki’s bed, lips red from the kissing and a warm, comforting body curled up around his. In his head, it feels like that happens _a lot_.

Tonight, though, there’s a disturbance Miya hasn’t predicted: _a text_. Reki’s phone buzzes, so the older boy disentangles from Miya’s sleepy limbs and checks his messages. When Reki doesn’t put the phone away and Miya’s back is starting to get cold, the younger decides to poke the sleeping beast.

« Is that Langa? »

« Mh? » Reki is hypnotized by the phone, smiling like an idiot, so yeah, it must be Langa « Say that again, I got distracted. »

« Of course you did. » Miya mumbles, fuming, and turns his back to Reki.

« Miya, c’mon. » Reki has put his phone down, because he is poking at his back with both hands « Don’t be a baby, you weren’t even asleep yet. »

« It’s not about that. »

« What is it about, _then?_ »

« It’s just- » Miya swallows, once again grateful Reki can’t see his face right now «It’s _pathetic_. »

He turns just in time to catch Reki biting his lower lip – well, _fuck –_ looking absolutely defeated.

« Low blow. »

« Somebody’s gotta tell you. Your crush is getting embarrassing. »

This is one of the most genuine conversations they’ve ever had. Miya can’t bear how clingy Reki is with Langa, how he can throw his dignity out of the window for a hug, or the way he stares adoringly at the other boy. _I hope I never get like that._

« Geez, thanks for the support. »

« Anytime. » Miya deadpans.

Reki rolls his eyes, and yet, he smiles a little, as if their friendly banter has actually helped.

( _“it’s just a fact, kitten,_

_you’re not good with people,_

_but that’s okay, you got me, now”_ )

Miya wonders if it’s a good time to give a little push, to see how far Reki will go to temporarily stop thinking about Langa. And then he decides it is as good as any other time. He moves, slow and confident, like a predator, and Reki must sense it, or he must recognise this Miya, the one from _that time_ , because he readies himself for battle, no trace of softness left on his pretty face.

« Do you want to play a game, Reki? » he purrs, inches from the other’s boy lips.

« N-not so sure. I want to know the rules first. »

« The rule is that _you_ get to do whatever you want. »

« That’a hardly a rule. »

« That’s how we skate at S. »

« That’s how _Adam_ skates. » Reki punctuates « _We_ get to do whatever _we_ want. »

« Same difference. » Miya scoffs, but Reki’s remark hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Before he can hear any more reasonable objections, Miya laces their mouths together. Reki groans in surprise, and yet, he kisses Miya back.

Reki tries to get a hold on Miya’s wandering hands, unsuccessfully. Miya straddles his lap, defeating all protests and avoiding Reki’s hands, that are getting more shaky and unsure with every passing minute. The casual joggers Reki’s wearing are thin enough that Miya can trace the shape of Reki’s traitorous erection. He smirks, victorious, and rubs his palm against it, all fury and haste – it’s more of a race, really, but Reki stops struggling and allows one single high-pitched sound to escape his mouth. _Doesn’t matter_ , Miya cheers himself on, and he uses the free hand to pull at Reki’s hair and force him to get closer for another kiss. Reki comes embarrassingly fast, moaning inside Miya’s mouth, and, as they part to catch a breath, Miya searches the other boy’s face for his reward: Reki’s flushed, with pink cheeks, lips slightly parted and eyes wide open, the perfect picture of guilt.

The view, however, doesn’t make Miya even half as happy as he expected to be; perhaps he did something wrong, or perhaps Reki is so easy to toy with that, at the end of the day, it’s not worth it. Miya can’t even smile.

_(funny, he thinks,_

_Adam always smiled when-)_

« _C’mere_. » Reki breathes, softly, and Miya wants to ask _where_ , because they’re basically melting into each other, but _no_ , but Reki _has to_ keep talking « I’m taking care of you now. »

Miya gets flipped on his back and he finds himself lying on the bed, Reki on top of him. The rest is a bit of a blur. There are kisses, _so many kisses_ , from the back of his ear to is inner tight. Reki removes his clothes slowly, pice by piece, starting from the cat jumper; and every time a little bit of skin is left bare, he places a gentle kiss. Miya can barely hear anything over his own moans, just a few words Reki whispers against his ear as he stroke him through the fabric of his underwear – silly words, like _I got you_ and _you’re safe_.

 _I am not leaving you_.

Reki’s hand disappear over the waistband of his briefs – _multicoloured kittens on a teal background, so childish, he should be ashamed_ – and Miya makes a sound in the back of his throat that is not cute at all, it’s probably the opposite of sexy, it’s weird as fuck.

_(“think of it as a performance”_

_and Miya frowned in confusion_

_“like a skate show?”_

_“like a skate show”_

_-and there was a mirror in front of them, somehow,_

_and a hand was stroking his hair_

_“so pretty, kitten”_

_-or was it pulling?_

_“promise you’ll always look this pretty”_ )

And just like that, Miya is reaching his climax with an even more undignified yelp; Reki is still holding him just the same, though, unaware – or ignoring – how sweaty and sticky the younger boy is. Miya catches his breath, trying not to look at his own mess – _disgusting, his underwear is probably ruined for good, although not as much as his pride_ – even though this means he ends up making eye contact with Reki.

The boy seems ... _expectant_.

Miya is struck by the realisation that Reki has no idea what’s going on; and since he never has, he is awaiting for Miya’s instructions, because clearly whatever Reki knows about post-coital etiquette doesn’t apply to _this_.

Any other day in history Miya would take charge effortlessly, that’s all he usually wants. But today there’s Reki looking down at him with his big bright eyes, and the stupid phone with the stupid texts from stupid Langa still on sight, on the nightstand; and there’s something else, too, a thought that’s been nagging at the back of his head since the day he met his new friends. Miya can’t even tell whether it’s a memory or not, all he knows is that when he’s around Reki, he feels closer to grasp it.

« Miya...? Are you okay? »

« Yes _._ » Miya blinks « Why would I not be okay? »

« Uhm, because...because you look very upset. And you kinda went about this the wrong way. N-not wrong, but- » Reki bites his lip « You really look like you don’t know what you’re doing. I get it, you’re scared to be alone again, just- This isn’t a great idea. You can get all the cuddles you want, but...not like this, for now. Oh, but _this is fine._ » he adds in a rush, when Miya furrows his brows « It’s totally _not your fault_. It’s mine. I fucked up. Sorry. »

 _Oh_.

There’s a gentle click in Miya’s brain, light, but unmistakable; for a moment, he wonders how Reki could have missed it.

(“ _what?”_

_and he laughed_

_“are you jealous, Miya?”_

_“not at all”_

_“you’re pouting, kitten, that’s cute”_

_“I am not”, he insisted_

_“don’t worry, you gotta be pretty special to be-“_

_but the rest didn’t matter, all that mattered was the ‘oh’ in his head,_

_and ‘so it is something about me,_

_it always has been,_

_so it’s my-“_ )

« _-not your fault_. Miya, I told you it’s okay, please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong. »

Miya is fairly sure he isn’t crying – why would he be? – but if that’s what Reki wants to believe, whatever.

« It’s all good, I’m here. » Reki keeps reassuring him, and almost scoops him up in his arms, holding him tight and massaging his back. « We’re a bit fucked up right now, but we’ll sort this out, okay? »

« _Reki._ » Miya whispers against the other boy’s neck « Reki, do you think I’m special? »

« What. »

Reki must be frowning right now, but Miya is getting sleepy and he doesn’t want to disentangle from their embrace, so he has to imagine Reki wrinkling his nose as he thinks the question over.

« Give me a break » there’s no bite in his voice « and stop with this child prodigy act. You’re a kid with a skateboard who likes oversize cat jumpers. You might know a few tricks, but deep down, you’re just one of us. »

( _“I think I don’t like it here anymore”)_

« _Reki._ »

« Mh. »

« Can I sleep over? ‘m too tired to skate back home. »

« Of course, silly. It’s the middle of the night. Did you really think I would just let you go out there all alone? »

Miya shrugs, but it’s almost a reflex to Reki’s voice at this point, because he is dozing off already. Reki settles against him, his body curling up protectively around Miya’s smaller figure.

( _“I think I want to go home, now.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> For me, it was 'Miya is crushing so hard on Reki' at first sight. I actually had to read some stuff/rewatch the episodes before getting into the OT3 or just on board with Miya having a crush on Langa, too. And I adore them all, but it felt right to start off with my 'first love' ♥ 
> 
> (Absolutely unrelated, BUT. I finished wiritng this fic after reading the cutest Otayuri fic ever and Otabek calls Yurio ‘kitten’ the whole damn time. It was a hell of a challenge to keep using it in this context lol)


End file.
